A Little's Enough
by foreverandeverxandever
Summary: My name is Peyton Sawyer and I'm 22. This is the tale of my journey to find my father. This is the chronicle of the secrets and scandal I unlocked looking for a key part of my life. And this is the heartbreaking and dark story of my half sister. LP&LB.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey readers! :) This is my first One Tree Hill story so be nice. This is pretty dark so if you don't like dark, hit the back button at the top of your browser. I like reviews and constructive criticism so don't be afraid to leave some. This is set in the beginning of season six. This chapter's pretty short, but it'll get longer I promise. M'kay, read and review please.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing really.**

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Have you ever felt like sometimes what you have isn't enough? As if something _so _crucial was missing from your life, yet if you're looking at it from someone else's point of view, it's… flawless?

Well that's kind of the way I feel. I mean, I have everything. Amazing friends, a great father, the memory of _two _incredible moms, a successful record label, and a handsome and remarkable fiancé. You see, if you were looking through a window at my life and it's events, you'd probably think I'm crazy for wanting anything more. Sure, there were a couple of deaths, a few heartbreaks, several fights- even a crazy stalker that tried to kill me. But if you really looked close, it was picture perfect.

I think I might be going insane. Why in the world would I risk my happiness when I have all I ever wanted?

The truth is… I have no idea.

Ever since I met Ellie, I've been so curious to find out what my birth father was like. I mean, if Ellie hooked up with him, he had to be kind of cool right?

Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe that's why he and Ellie never stayed together. But I was determined to find out.

My name is Peyton Sawyer. I'm twenty-two and this is the tale of my journey to find my father.

This is the chronicle of the secrets and scandal I unlocked looking for a key part of my life.

And this is the heartbreaking and dark story of my half sister.


	2. Chapter One

**AN: Hey guys! Chapter one is finally here. Chapter two on it's way. This chapter is short also, but I swear, once the drama get's started they're gonna get longer. All of the people mentioned in this chapter are going to be tied into the story so bare with me. Read and review please. :)**

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"_**A timid person is frightened before a danger, a coward during the time, and a courageous person afterward." -**__**Jean Paul Richter**_

I ran as fast as I could through the dark and muddy woods. Strips of light from the moon occasionally lit the ground as I falling rain pelted my tearstained cheeks. The sound of my teeth chattering echoed throughout the forest walls. It was freezing, and I wasn't wearing much. An orange tank top, a tie-dye hoodie, blue short shorts with colorful hearts on them, and purple converse didn't do a good job in keeping me warm.

My stomach was cramping, my throat was sore, my body ached, and my eyes burnt. I couldn't stop the tears from spilling down my face.

I was dreading what they would say when I got back.

You know those people who put off _everything,_ no matter how important, until it was too late?

Well I'm one of those people.

But you see, most of the other people do it on accident. Like, putting things off, but having the intentions of finishing them later. Sometimes they never do.

I'm not exactly sure what my intentions were, or what they have been for thirteen years.

I thought, maybe I could stick it out for two more years, and when I turned eighteen… I was free.

We were free.

I saw what looked like a porch light at the end of the woods and ran towards it.

I breathed a sigh of relief after realizing where I was.

Every conjoined house was exactly the same.

The same tall black lamppost lighting the same perfect grass, standing by the same cement pathway, leading away from the same sidewalk. The same red brick that lined the first floor of the house, layered on top by the same pale yellow siding. The same bay windows that sat next to the same white, stained glass front doors.

But none of the people were the same.

The house next to the pool, 1414, Elliot Pright lives there. We call him Mr. Pright. He's around seventy five. He's really nice. He treats everyone like his kids. His wife passed away around four years ago. I never met her. His adopted daughter Caitlin went missing sixteen years ago. She was twenty four. Everyday he takes a walk to the back of the complex, next to the train tracks and by the ocean. Supposedly he used to take her fishing there when she was little. He says he can still hear her laugh. He also says I remind him a lot of her. If she was anything like me, I feel bad for him.

1416 is the house next to his. Brendan and Cassidy Morehouse live there. They're only thirty… I think. They have four kids, Cory, Casey, Callie and Clayton. They're all under eight. They seem to have the perfect family. The kind that have weekly picnics, always have smiles painted on their faces and practically live at the park. They're nice people though. They just get really annoying.

House number 1418, occupied Anthony Rounds, thirty nine. He's a good looking guy, but a total creep. I would know first hand. There's not much to say about him. Nothing except that most people do their best to avoid conversing with him. I _try_ not to also.

And then my favorite house of them all 1420. Home to Melinda Carey and her son Trevor Carey. She's thirty eight and Trevor is eighteen. _And_ the more than occasional residence of me, Nicole Sommers, sixteen. Melinda is never home. She's always away on business trips. Her husband left her when Trevor was four. For another girl or something. They moved here six years ago. Ever since then Trevor has been one of my best friends.

When I saw their house the sharp pain in my stomach slightly subsided. The automatic porch light turned on as I stomped up the steps, shaking the dirt off of my purple converse before I opened the door.

"I'm home!" My squeaking voice echoed in the front room.

"It's about time." I somewhat frowned while walking into the dimly lit living room.

"Hey there." I smiled at her, my other best friend. Samantha Walker, fifteen. Current foster daughter of Brooke Davis, twenty two. But if she keeps sneaking out to hang out with us until seven in the morning, she might no longer be her foster daughter.

"You better hope your tardiness doesn't become a habit. I swear I will go crazy." Her sarcasm was evident. "You look like crap."

"Hah, thanks. And speaking of the monster-"

"Which one?" She cut me off and stood up from the large, pure white couch to face me. "There's two in that sentence I could have been referring to when I said tardiness." This was her way of making me feel guilty.

I ignored her second comment. "The cute one."

"Ahh, she is upstairs, aslee-"

"MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY!"

"Or at least I thought she was." I heard Sam mumble under her breath and watched her plop back down on the couch.

"RYLEIGH RYLEIGH RYLEIGH!" I squealed and held out my arms for my bouncing four year old daughter.


End file.
